


Nine Lives

by rosid_eudicot



Category: Original Work
Genre: Degradation, Dirty Talk, Eroguro, Futanari, Gore, Masturbation, Multi, Necro-Selfcest, Necrophilia, Resurrection, Selfcest, Violence, Voyeurism, facesitting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28889856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosid_eudicot/pseuds/rosid_eudicot
Summary: Runia Vogel is a thief whose life takes a very, very strange turn.
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Other(s), Original Male Character(s)/Other(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Just Bad Luck

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i hope you enjoy this story!
> 
> in case you didn't heed the content warnings, this work will in future contain explicit sex, including bloodplay/guro/necrophilia (although the opening chapter is mature-rated and doesn't contain any sex). if that puts you off, please dont read any further!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A burglary goes wrong. Far more wrong than anyone really knows.

Museums are boring places at the best of times. And yet they were always absolutely packed, even the ones that, perplexingly, required you to pay just to get in. Runia didn’t understand them; she viewed them as rackets of some form or another, but luckily, in her line of work, she didn’t need to.

Because there are two reasons that you go to a museum at night, long after it closes. Well, three reasons. Either you’re even more of a hopeless dork than the hopeless dorks who go to museums when they’re open (seriously, if you’re that curious, the Internet exists), you’re a night guard, or you’re someone who the night guard is trying to protect the museum against.

Tonight’s attack was one that Runia was quite proud of. After scoping out the museum and enduring what seemed like endless droll tours by the aforementioned hopeless dorks, she had successfully identified a back entrance to the museum. It was in a "no visitors allowed" section of the building, sure, but the staff didn't know that. She just told them that she was looking for a bathroom when they spotted her. And before that, she had enough time to wander into the breakroom, grab a snack from their vending machine, and most importantly, stick a little piece of tape over the latch of that back door.

A beanie and a scarf hid Runia's features from any prying eyes, not that there was anyone wandering around at this time. A pair of stylish black gloves kept her fingerprints off the door as she walked quickly inside, shutting the door behind herself.

For as good of a liar and a thief that Runia is, she still gets that rush whenever she's successful. The pure, satisfying bitterness of adrenaline filled her body and her heart beat in double-time for a few moments before she willed it into submission. After all, she didn't come here to feel self-satisfied. She had a job, and by God, she was going to do it.

Video games and movies and TV shows are all liars. If you listened to them, you'd expect to have to hide behind obstacles and toss things just out of sight to distract guards who patrolled by flashlight. Not the case. Most of the lights were on thanks to some obscure accessibility rule that the city forced the museum to follow, and as far as Runia knew, there was only a single guard. That's all she'd seen while scoping the place out, anyway. Her hypothesis was that they would just rely upon automated alarms and unmonitored closed-circuit cameras in case of theft. Absolutely stupid.

No, she didn't crouch down or try to be stealthy on her way to the display. She just kept her wits about herself, stopping just before crossing the threshold into the room. Yet again, it crossed Runia's mind that television was bullshit. There was no hyper-complex, criscrossing laser grid protecting the wooden tablet at the end of the room. It was just a small far-infrared emitter on the floor, shining an invisible light to an infrared light detector at the opposite end of the corridor. And she didn't need to do something ridiculous like blow makeup powder onto the beam to reveal it (it wouldn't have worked anyway). This thousand-dollar security system was defeated by carefully stepping over where she imagined the beam was.

 _What a piece of cake_ , she thought to herself. The tablet at the end of the room was hers for the taking, after unlocking the display case. (She had expected to pick the lock, but nope, it was a wafer-cored piece of shit that was keyed with one of the off-the-shelf default keys she kept in her pocket.) Briefly, she held in her hands a tablet carved with writing in French and Algonquin detailing the trade rules between settlers in Canada and… Who the hell cares!? Runia's eyes glazed over as she tried to parse the text on the plaque beside the display. It was an old tablet and she was gonna get paid $38,000 for it. That's all she needed to know. It fit snugly in the laptop compartment of her backpack.

Up next was a trip to the museum storeroom for the second piece of her haul. Strange that she hadn't seen nor heard any sign of the security guard; maybe he was asleep, or out eating donuts? Oh, well. The storeroom was as deserted as the rest of the museum, and Runia wasn't complaining.

Unfortunately, this wasn't going to be as easy as the tablet. A bunch of wooden crates, each marked "FOR FUTURE DISPLAY," sat mocking Runia on the floor of the storeroom. With a sigh, she crouched down and retrieved a small claw bar from her backpack. She wasn't wild about needing to do such a messy smash-and-grab sort of affair, but such was her line of work.

The first crate popped open with a quiet crunch. It was filled with books. Holy shit. Just when she thought that museums couldn't get more boring, Runia learns that the museum is about to put books on display. Presumably visitors wouldn't even be allowed to read them, so what was the point?

After rolling her eyes, she moved onto the next crate. Crunch. It was filled with wood shavings and sawdust, which was promising given the item she was looking for. But after sifting around for a minute, she determined that she was out of luck. All she turned up was a small stone statue, a box full of marbles, and a small bangle of some sort. Next.

...Actually, wait a minute. The bangle drew her eye again before she moved on. It was black, possibly made of obsidian or jet? And after a moment of scrutiny, she saw that it was adorned with carvings of little cats, nine in total, each wearing a "collar" of gold inlaid into the stone. That was pretty cute. Ancient Egypt (or whatever the origin of this bangle was) got a point in Runia's book. And maybe it'd even be worth something? It took no time at all to slide it onto her wrist before moving on, so she did so.

Third time's the charm, right? She popped open the next crate in line and her heart immediately soared upon seeing a porcelain teapot carefully bubble-wrapped sitting at the top of the box. That was a good sign. After moving it aside and digging around a bit, she finally found just what she was looking for: a small jade carving shaped to look like two hands clasped in prayer. It had something to do with China and Catholicism, but Runia had forgotten all of its significance. She did remember that it was worth at least 20 grand, so it had that going for it.

Standing up to her full height, Runia turned, and froze, and her veins turned to ice.

A heavyset man in a black shirt, doubtlessly emblazoned with "SECURITY" on the back, was staring her in the face, mouth agape, holding a flashlight loosely in his hand. As they looked at each other like deer caught in opposing headlights, the flashlight slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor, and Runia made a split-second choice between fight and flight.

Thankfully, she chose the latter, vaulting over the crate before her and sprinting behind the cover of a heavy metal shelf. The guard had drawn a taser, and Runia just narrowly avoided the prongs that instead sank into the crate.

"I- I need backup here, at- at the Earth Heritage Museum, right now!" The guard barked into his radio. Shit. Runia bolted to the door as fast as she could, the cool air burning at her lungs, when she almost slammed headfirst into…

...Another security guard? What the fuck!? There was supposed to only be one! Had Runia somehow been unlucky enough to catch them as they were changing shifts? Fuck!

The guard was as surprised as she was. He wasn't holding his baton, and Runia was holding her claw bar, which she quickly struck him across the face with. The guard was sent reeling, and she pushed past him to the exit, not needing to look to know that the first guard was in hot pursuit.

Thankfully, she was just a bit faster, and had just a bit more stamina. She could make it. She had to make it! She slammed into the door, pressing against the crash bar and exiting into the alley behind the museum. She just had to keep running, it didn't matter where, until she could get security off her tail. Just. Keep. Running.

She rounded a corner. A spotlight blinded her. Just keep running.

Hold on a second.

Here's where things got a little bit awkward for Ironsides LLC.

You see, Agent Jones—Ironsides LLC goons like to call themselves "agent" because it sounds better than "got-discharged-from-the-military-or-law-enforcement-guy"—had just happened to call for backup right when Agent Carter was about to come relieve him of his shift and cover the last half of the night. Agent Carter, whose jaw just got fractured from Runia's claw bar, was supposed to be alone, but he just so happened to be carpooling with Agent Blake because his car was in the shop. Agent Blake was to leave his shift, pick up Carter, drive to the museum, and exchange Carter for Jones. Then they would drive together to Ironsides LLC's headquarters, get in their respective cars, and go home.

Following it so far? Good. Here's something else that's very important. Jones and Carter were contracted out as museum guards, each carrying a collapsible baton and a taser. Blake was different. He was an armored car driver. And instead of a taser, he carried a Glock 19 chambered in 9x19mm Parabellum.

And he was a little bit trigger happy. So when he heard a frantic call for backup, he turned on his armored truck's floodlight and got out with his pistol at the ready. He didn't remember whether or not he yelled, "Security, freeze!" like he was supposed to before opening fire on the figure that sprinted full tilt into the light.

Blinding pain shot through Runia's body as a bullet tore through her shoulder. Just keep running. She stumbled. The second bullet struck her from behind, and ironically enough, was stopped short by that wooden tablet in her backpack. But the third bullet, well, third time's the charm, right? That one hit her in the neck, tearing a bloody hole through her. She was dead before she hit the ground. She was dead before Jones and Carter ran outside to pursue her. She was dead before Blake had a chance to yell, "Security, freeze!"

The three officers were buried underneath an avalanche of paperwork. Blake was asked to resign by Ironsides LLC's management. The round he fired into the wooden tablet in Runia's backpack thankfully didn't damage it too much, and its historical value wasn't diminished—in fact, morbid curiosity drove a ton of hopeless dorks to the museum to see the bullet hole in it.

It was one of two artifacts recovered from Runia's corpse by the museum. The second was a small jade carving in the shape of two hands clasped in prayer. After a lengthy investigation in which they checked the contents of each crate that the thief had opened against its respective manifest, they determined to their satisfaction that those two items were the only things stolen that night.

And the next morning, Runia Vogel awoke with a start in her bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i did think that ending was very clever, thank you!


	2. Mysteries and Constants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newly awoken from death, Runia has to figure out what happened to her and what to do next. Losing her sanity is not an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also known as "oh hey look it got smutty already." told ya!

Runia awoke as she usually did: from a combination of the sun streaming in through her curtains (she really should get blackout curtains, ugh) and the sounds of her upstairs neighbors having an argument. She wasn't sure whether they were a couple or just roommates, but either way, they should either just fuck already or get out of each others' hair.

She reached out to her bedside table to look at her phone. And that's the first thing she noticed was off. It wasn't there. _The hell?_ She usually put her phone on that nightstand to charge, unless she went to bed really drunk and either left it in the bathroom or at someone's house. Come to think of it, going to bed drunk would explain some things.

The next unusual thing she noticed was that she was naked, but that wasn't actually that unusual. That was another symptom of going to bed drunk (sometimes you just start putting on pajamas and then say "fuck it"), but it was also a symptom of forgetting to do laundry.

Third was a bit more strange. She was sleeping on top of her covers. Now, that was just morally and practically wrong, especially considering how cold it usually was thanks to her apartment's garbage excuse for central heating. Even drunk Runia would have the common decency to sleep under the covers.

And fourth, which actually took her kind of a while to notice because of how comfortably it fit, was the odd bracelet she was wearing. It was carved from some kind of polished black stone, inlaid with engravings of a bunch of cats, each wearing a golden collar. Very cute, but it was also very un-Runia-like to accessorize with something like that. Still, it was probably the least of her concerns.

With a yawn, Runia stood up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her dark hair hung just to her shoulders, and oddly enough, it didn't look at all in need of brushing. It was as if she had just woken up from a 30-minute power nap, not a full night's sleep. And her complexion was fairly tan as usual, rather than flushed or sallow like it usually was when she was drunk or hungover. That was a bit confusing.

Distractions, distractions. "Where's your clothes, idiot…?" Runia mumbled to herself, looking around for a pile of clothes. Her 'laundry basket' (the three square feet of floor that she piles clothes into) was empty, and there wasn't anything in the bathroom, either. Perplexing. 99% of the time, her phone was in a discarded pair of jeans. So where the hell was it? She lived in an apartment, for God's sake, it's not like she had a lot of places where an outfit and a phone could be hiding.

After checking the obvious places—her desk, the bathroom sink, the fridge, under the bed, the dresser, the fridge again, and the freezer—she was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

"Who is it?"

"You know who it is, Runia." The nasally voice of her landlord, a guy named Aidan, greeted her. At once, she was glad that she didn't append her question with, "I'm naked," because that sleazy little shit would probably get off on the idea. "I need your rent," Aidan continued, knocking on the door again and doubtlessly trying to peer in through the peephole.

"It's the 3rd, Aidan," Runia called through the door. "Rent's not due until the 10th. Go away."

"It's the _4th_ ," he said with a smug tone of superiority. "And I'm not talking about February's rent, I'm talking about the rest of January's rent. You still owe me three hundred dollars."

Fuck. Was it actually the 4th? And did Runia still actually owe $300? She could have sworn that she only owed $200. Maybe that fucker broke his promise and charged interest. Either way, she was in no state to pay him right now. "Yeah, alright, I'll… Uh, I'll pay it forward with February's rent when I get it to you on the 10th. I'm kind of having a rough morning so I don't have my wallet on me."

She could practically hear his sigh through the door. "Stop drinking away my rent money."

"Maybe fix your fucking heater," She snapped back. "Then I wouldn't have to drink so much to stay warm." But either it fell on deaf ears or Aidan had already left.

With a groan, Runia resolved herself to the fact that her phone was probably at someone else's place. She didn't even want to entertain the thought of losing it on a bus somewhere. Given her occupation, it didn't have any identifying information that would lead someone back to her, so if it was gone, it was _gone_. Her missing clothes were their own mystery, but she could figure that out later too, once she remembered what she had done last night. She went to her dresser and retrieved a pair of boyshorts, a pair of jeans, and a white tank top. She put each article on on and—

Just as she slid the tank top onto herself, she let out a sharp gasp. For some reason, the moment the fabric had touched her chest, a jolt of overstimulation shot through her body. Confused, she gently slid a finger across her nipple and almost moaned from the pleasure. Why was she so sensitive all of a sudden? Runia was never the sort to have problems with that; most of the time, she didn't even wear a bra, since she wasn't too sensitive and was modestly flat enough to get away with it as long as she could put on some layers. But this was way outside of the norm.

… _Okay. It's time to stop rubbing your nipple, Runia_. She was getting more turned on than was absolutely necessary. For the time being, she went topless before taking a seat at her desk and opening the lid of her laptop.

Memories started coming back to her while it started up. (The stupid thing was ancient; even running a barebones Linux distro, it took ages to wake up.) She'd been casing the Earth Heritage Museum in preparation of a very lucrative heist job. That'd be enough to pay her rent for damn sure. She probably went out with a friend last night to celebrate, since tonight she had planned to actually rob the place.

After finally starting her computer up, waiting for her proxy to connect, and opening the secured e-mail service she used to communicate with prospective clients, she saw the familiar message pinned to the top of her inbox. "Opportunity: Museum Job," read the subject line.

But the second message at the top of her inbox made Runia double-take. "`WAS THAT YOU???`" New as of last night. She clicked; the message seemed frantic and disorganized. "`jfc rook,`" it said, using Runia's dark-web alias, "`they just fucking shot someone outside the museum im listening to the scanners please tell me that wasnt you please repsond please.`"

What? How could they have shot someone outside the museum? Runia hadn't robbed it yet. She opened up a web browser and went to the local news website. Sure enough, the top article read, "Woman Shot by Private Security Firm at Earth Heritage Museum."

Did someone else try to rob the place? Was someone playing a sick joke on her? Runia clicked through, skimming the article. "At 1:39 AM…" "...suspected break-in…" "...Ironside LLC has declined requests to comment until an investigation..." "...Caucasian female, late 20s, dark hair, green eyes..."

Runia's mouth became dry and her head spun as her eyes passed over the next words. "Small tattoo of a crescent moon on the back left shoulder blade. The suspect was pronounced dead upon arrival of first responders."

She pushed herself back from the desk in horror. There was no way. How the hell was someone matching her exact description killed robbing the museum? And nobody could be playing a prank on her because about three people in the world knew about that tattoo. And how was it that the news story was dated for February 4 when that was when she had planned to commit her heist?

Runia willed herself to calm down. To breathe. There had to be some kind of mistake. She looked down at her desk, which she was gripping white-knuckled, and the bracelet on her arm caught her eye. And just like that, it all came rushing back. The tape. The tablet. The crates. Nearly getting caught, and dying from a bullet to the neck.

But how? She was, self-evidently, perfectly fine. Right? Was she some kind of ghost? If so, she was in a really shitty afterlife if it began with her landlord shaking her down for a late rent payment.

Maybe trying to look for answers was foolish. Whatever had happened, she'd just have to adapt like she always did. Right?

She almost passed out when she stood up, probably from hyperventilation, but she managed to stay steady. Hidden deep in a sock drawer was a bundle of cash – a hundred $20 bills. She didn't have a bank account; prepaid debit cards and cash were the only two things in the wallet that was on her… Corpse. Sheesh, that was a scary thought.

 _Don't think about it_. She stuffed a handful of bills into her pocket and almost walked out of the apartment before remembering that walking down to the store with her tits out would be a bad idea on many levels. She retrieved the tank top from her bed, hesitating before putting it on. She checked the sensitivity of her nipple once again with her finger, shuddering with the pleasure. _Yep, still really sensitive._

This would be a problem. Maybe, just maybe, it would feel better if she got this out of her system? It's not like she was under some kind of time constraint, being a dead woman walking, after all. She could afford a few minutes.

Runia unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off along with the boyshorts. Her previous observation was confirmed; just the act of gently touching her nipples had gotten her wet and excited. She sat on her bed and this time stroked both of her tits with her hands. An involuntary squeak of pleasure escaped her as she did, something which nearly never happened for Runia, but hey, this day was full of surprises.

As she moved her hand down, she couldn't help but notice the cool stone of the cat-bangle against her skin. It felt nice and natural, though, even if she was otherwise naked. And it didn't interfere with anything as she made her way down to her clit, sighing and closing her eyes as she massaged it with her fingers.

She let out another involuntary moan thanks to the combined stimulation, turning it voluntary about halfway through. She settled against her bed and lifted her hips up, whispering a little plea of, "Fuck me…" Sometimes it was fun to act like a slut, even if no one was watching. Another moan broke free as she slid her middle finger into her pussy, and it took basically no time for her to be wet enough to accept her ring finger too.

Runia shut her eyes tight and imagined that, instead of getting herself off with her fingers, she was riding someone's cock, and her hips moved in time with her fingers to support that image. "Fuck… Yes…" Her voice was quiet and breathy, until she pinched her nipple on a whim, at which point she cried out in pleasure at the sudden jolt of sensation. _I could get used to this_ , she thought, continuing that acting-like-a-slut thought process.

Her breaths, moans, and fingering became faster and faster. By some miracle, she had let go of the stress of having just lost her phone, money, and _life_ and given over entirely to the fantasy of fucking someone against her bed until she'd milked them dry of cum.

Well, almost entirely. There was a small part of her brain that remembered the sensation of being shot, even if it wasn't a fully conscious memory. And for some reason, the feeling of blood welling up in her throat was replaying in her head over and over, and it felt like being choked, starved of oxygen in the most wonderful way—

And with a sudden squeak of pleasure, Runia pushed herself over the edge. Her body tensed around her fingers, and a shudder ran through her as she came hard. Perhaps harder than she had in recent memory. And it felt wonderful, even if her extremities were all tingly and her legs felt rubbery for a little while after she withdrew her fingers.

Once her breath finally stabilized, Runia sat up and walked, naked again, to the bathroom to clean herself off. When she returned, she found, mercifully, that her nipples were no longer sensitive enough to keep her from putting on her shirt. Between the tank top, a hoodie, and a much larger jacket on top, she was perfectly fine facing the elements outside.

There was no snow, thankfully, since she had been wearing her good shoes when she had gotten shot to death, and all she presently had was a pair of Chuck Taylors. There was wind that threatened to blow in a rainstorm, or potentially a hailstorm, later in the day… But one problem at a time, right?

A block away from her apartment, a little drugstore shared a building with a donut shop. A cup of coffee and a chocolate chip muffin was $4.30; a prepaid flip phone was $15 (which was an absolute steal, even if it did make Runia feel like a drug dealer); and she loaded a prepaid debit card with a few dollars just so that she could change the numbers associated with her various online accounts. The detectives in Runia's city weren't stupid, and she was dead certain (no pun intended) that they'd be trying to trace the numbers on her debit cards to figure out who she was.

But there was one thing that she needed to do first. She walked outside of the drugstore and flipped the phone open, dialing a number that she knew by heart.

"Hello?" A sweet, if confused, voice greeted her on the other end. That made sense, because Kayla wouldn't have this number in her phone.

"What's up, Kay?"

"Oh, Runia, hi. Did you get a new phone?"

"Yeah. Long story, but you can delete my old number. Listen, I've got two questions. First, where was I yesterday?"

Kayla scoffed over the line. "Is your boyfriend there on speaker or something?"

"Did you just assume I have a boyfriend? Christ, do you even know me?"

"Touché." This time she let out a full-blown laugh. "You sent me a picture of you at that park, so I guess you were there. The one that we found weed at that one time."

"Hey, I sold that weed and it paid for my food for like two weeks." Runia laughed this time, partially because the statement elicited a weird look from a guy walking by. "Followup question, want to hang out today? I kind of need to take my mind off something."

Kayla's answer came without hesitation, which was precisely why Runia valued her so much as a friend. "Hell yeah. I just got paid so I can buy us ramen."

Runia briefly put the phone down and sighed with relief. At least there could be something constant and positive in her life at the moment. "You're the best. Swing by my apartment, okay?"


	3. Keep in Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runia ties up some loose ends, then creates a bunch more, still learning about the strange power she's been visited with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for this chapter: physical abuse in a relationship. yes i know thats a weird cw to put on a necrophilia fic but... oh well!

Runia's eyes opened to a state of near pitch-darkness. She was lying on her bed, and she was self-evidently again naked and over the covers once again. Did she not learn from last time? Or perhaps a more appropriate question would be: did she somehow die again? That was a scary thought for multiple reasons.

She tried to move her body, but could not. It wasn't as if anything was restraining her; no, her muscles had just decided to go on strike and refuse the instructions from her brain. The only thing she could move were her eyes, and as she flicked her gaze around her bedroom, she suddenly became aware of something… No, someone beside her.

The vague feeling of a presence coalesced until she realized that it was a person, cuddled up beside her, shifting slightly as if they had gone to sleep together. Runia certainly didn't remember _that_ happening. But then, as if her bedfellow knew that they had just been noticed, Runia felt them stir and move themselves.

She felt, more than saw, the person beside her untangle themselves from her body before shifting onto their knees, straddling Runia against the bed. Now, in the faint ambient light, she could make out the silhouette of a figure. A woman, so it seemed, although the presence of a soft bulge pressing against Runia at hip level wasn't entirely congruous with that observation. But more unusually, she had something on her back. At first, Runia thought it might be a backpack, but then she realized that it was a pair of wings…

A gentle warmth caressed Runia's breasts, and she let out a soft sigh of pleasure, realizing only later that the woman on top of her was massaging her chest. Her hands felt heavenly. The silhouette dipped slightly, and she felt another warmth on her stomach as the woman gently pressed her lips to Runia's skin. _Please don't stop,_ she thought, still unable to move enough to speak.

Suddenly, the warmth turned into a sharp, searing pain as the woman bit down, hard, on Runia's flesh. She cried out, half in pain, half in ecstatic pleasure at the rush of adrenaline. Blood flowed from the wound, gushing in a great flood as the figure lifted her head and tore a chunk of skin from Runia's belly. She felt a warm sensation as her lower body was soaked with blood, and a blinding wave of pain came as her guts began to spill from her body, and God, it felt like she was about to cum in the strongest orgasm she'd ever felt—

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Runia awoke to her alarm clock with a start, dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and an ultra-soft tee, very much alone and under the covers of her bed. She didn't remember a single thing about the dream she just woke from; not consciously, at least. And that was very good for her, because if she had, the memory would have troubled her enough to interfere with her morning ritual of coffee (from instant coffee powder, of course) and cereal.

Of course, she was out of cereal, so that morning ritual got pruned down to just coffee. If only she and Kayla had visited a grocery store yesterday… But that was an unhelpful line of thought. At the moment, she had a few loose ends to tie up, starting with her dark-web contact.

Setting the chipped mug down beside her laptop, Runia logged on and re-opened her mail application to draft a reply to her client's panicked message from the day prior. "`Greetings from beyond the grave.`" Was that too corny? Probably. She erased that and started over, going for a strictly-business, I-know-more-than-you tone.

`Rook here.`  
`No, of course it wasn't me. I'm a professional, not some 20 year old chick.`

You can never have enough misdirection when it comes to committing burglaries for hire. The dismissive, misogynistic subtext really sold it, Runia thought. She continued typing.

`I don't know what kind of bullshit game you're playing. If you hired someone else to do *my* job, I'll make sure you never work with anyone in the business again. You're lucky I won't get the feds on you, too.`

Clearly, based on the message her client sent in panic, he wasn't good at thinking clearly. This threatening language would make him wonder if he accidentally leaked information somewhere, and he'd be eager to forgive Runia lest he get shut out of future jobs.

`Either way, the place is too hot now. They're going to lock up tight and move the targets. I can put you in touch with an info broker to figure out where they're going to be next, but that'll cost you. 2 grand.`  
`Keep in touch. Rook out.`

And sent. He'd haggle down to a thousand dollars, maybe twelve hundred if he was really spooked, and just like that, Runia would be able to pay her rent. Preemptively, she drew up an email to the broker, too:

`HAL, Rook here. I may be sending a client your way pretty soon. He'll be looking for info on two pieces of art. I've got a suspicion that the girl who got shot at the Earth Heritage Museum last night might have been trying to steal them. Loop me in, 'cause I want to take a crack at doing a better job than she did.`

She hesitated for a moment. That was a perfectly adequate message. But then that damn bangle on her wrist caught her attention again, and she put her fingers back to the keys.

`Unrelated, I want some info on a piece of art myself. Description: polished black stone band, about the right size to be a bracelet. Engraved with images of cats, and each cat has a gold stripe on its neck that looks like a collar. Unknown culture of origin.`  
`Keep in touch. Rook out.`

Something was definitely wrong with the bracelet. For one, Runia had tried to take it off before meeting up with her friend, but no matter what she did, it wouldn't come off. And she tried like hell! But there was another, more mundane yet somehow more insidious aspect to its strangeness. She had forgotten that it was on her multiple times throughout the day, much like the sensation of wearing a watch and forgetting that it's on your wrist, only turned up to eleven. And she wasn't the only one—it took Kayla, usually a very observant person who noticed every haircut, an hour of talking to Runia before she noticed the accessory.

And, of course, there was that whole thing where Runia had come back from the dead after putting it on. She wasn't stupid enough to think that those two dots didn't connect. But she had no idea why they did. Maybe HAL would have some (overpriced) insight.

She leaned back in her chair to take a sip from her coffee, but stopped short, wincing at the sound of yet another heated argument from upstairs. Runia hated the sound of yelling. And she especially hated it when, like today, it became loud enough to drown out her thoughts completely. Even through headphones, try as she might to put some music on to stifle the sound.

Finally, she'd had enough. With a frustrated sigh, she grabbed a hoodie from a hook on the back of her bathroom door and walked into the hallway. She didn't have the time nor the need to take her wallet or even lock her door, so the only thing on her was her new flip-phone. She made her way to the stairwell and climbed one level to the unit directly above hers.

Most of the people who lived in Runia's building worked in the service industry. Nothing glamorous (otherwise they wouldn't be living in that shithole); most of these people were things like baristas at coffee shops and clerks at drugstores. A lot of them happened to work opening shifts, which meant that the neighbors who would usually be bothered by this screaming match were nowhere to be found. That explained the unusually empty corridor that Runia was greeted with.

Apartment #604 seemed to be the one that the argument was coming from. Runia could make out a man's and a woman's voice, so she assumed that they probably were a couple and not roommates. Whatever. She wasn't here to play detective or marriage therapist. She knocked—no, _pounded_ —on the door.

The shouting stopped, if only for a moment, and after a second, the door opened a crack. A man whose average features were distorted by naked contempt greeted Runia. "What do you want?"

Runia tried to resist the urge to get angry and instead approach the situation with some poise, rationality, and tact. "I want you to shut the fuck up," she said bluntly. "I know the apartment doesn't have noise codes or quiet hours because we're not a bunch of fucking college kids, but if you're going to scream bloody fuckin' murder at your girlfriend or whatever, at least have the decency to do it where I can't fucking hear it."

Well. The whole tact thing didn't work. Shame.

The man was stunned into silence for a second by Runia's tongue-lashing. And that was really quite lucky—or unlucky—for her. Because in the silence before he said, "Fuck you, bitch," and tried to slam the door on her, she heard a sound from inside the apartment. It sounded like a sob.

Runia shot her foot out, jamming it in the door and preventing it from closing. "Hold on," she said, glaring at him. Then she raised her voice to call into the apartment, "Everyone alright in there?"

"She's fine. Let me handle my own shit," the man snapped, almost drowning out another sob. But Runia was listening for it this time, and she definitely heard that one. With her foot still in the door, she put her shoulder against it and shoved, pushing the man with just enough force to get herself into the room.

The unit was a one-bedroom affair, slightly bigger than Runia's studio space. A half-open door led to a bedroom, and through it, she could see the figure of a woman dressed in a housecoat sitting on the bed, hiding her face in her hands.

"Lady, are you okay?" Runia pushed past the man in her way, despite his attempt to grab her arm—people try to grab Runia thinking she's delicate, but her thin frame holds a lot of power—and into the bedroom. The woman looked up, nursing a bloody lip and a black eye.

Runia wheeled around. The man's bloodied knuckles told her the rest of the story. "Son of a bitch." Sensing that she was between this guy and the woman he had been beating, she tried and failed to take a diplomatic approach again.

"Motherfucker, are you serious with that shit?" She snapped, gesticulating in the woman's general direction. "Are you crazy?"

"Leave us the fuck alone, bitch!"

"Terry, please stop, just let her go!"

"You're fucking sick! Don't touch me!" Runia shrugged off another attempt by the man—Terry, she supposed—to grab her by the shoulder, retreating into the bedroom by a couple steps.

"I'm dealing with—"

"Just stop, please leave and—"

"I'm gonna call the motherfucking cops—"

"Give me that—!"

"Terry, don't—!"

Runia withdrew the flip-phone from her pocket and got two numbers into 9-1-1 before Terry lunged to snatch it out of her hand. She jumped away, bumping against the side of the bed. He didn't succeed in getting ahold of Runia, but his momentum carried his hand to an aluminum baseball bat resting against the bedside table.

It was far too late for Runia to avoid what was coming. The metal bat struck her with force in the side of the head, crushing her skull into pieces that tore through her brain like bone flechettes. She slumped to the ground, phone in hand, 9-1-1 dialed but not called, dead.

And then she woke up, laying in her bed, naked and on top of the covers, her heart racing. There was a moment's confusion and disorientation, but this time, it didn't take nearly as long for Runia to recall the events leading up to her death. Just as she sprung up from the bed, stumbling slightly from shock, trying frantically to figure out something to do, she heard a scream from outside.

It sounded like Terry's girlfriend, screaming her head off, sprinting out of the apartment and running down the stairs to try and put as much distance between herself and Runia's dead body as possible. (Probably a smart instinct.)

But wait. That meant that only a few seconds had passed, right? Was Terry still there? With Runia's phone and her corpse? Frantically, she grabbed a pair of leggings and a t-shirt from her dresser, hastily donning them before exiting her apartment and running upstairs.

Sure enough, the door to Apartment #604 was ajar, and Runia felt a foreboding sense of déjà vu as she approached. Crouching down so as not to be heard, she made her way to the entrance, standing beside it so as not to be seen. From within, she could hear sounds of panic, as if Terry were reacting to accidental murder in the way that most people probably would: blubbering and saying, "oh, shit," and freaking out about how to hide the body.

Unfortunately for Terry, his manslaughter victim was very much alive and pissed off. She peered into the apartment, catching a glimpse of him bending down, probably trying to lift the dead weight of Runia's body. And that baseball bat was lying on the ground just beside the door, still dripping with blood.

With all of the instincts of a thief, Runia slipped into the apartment and silently shut the door behind herself. Then, she broke into a sprint, lunging for the aluminum bat and snatching it off the floor before Terry could even react to the sound behind him. With a grunt of exertion, she spun around and smashed the bat into his back, flattening him against the ground with a shout of pain. Summoning as much strength as she could, she rammed her knee against his face, smashing his nose and knocking him out cold.

"…Greetings from beyond the grave, bitch." She was panting from the adrenaline, which kind of dampened the effect of the one-liner, but it made her feel cool, which was all that mattered. The bat fell to the carpet with a dull thud as Runia sank to her now-wobbly knees. She had been in fights before—sometimes fights for her life—but never enough to truly get used to them. And then there was the fact that, just a few inches from Terry's unconscious form, Runia's own corpse was slumped face-down on the carpet.

 _Alright. Breathe. You're okay._ As much as her legs didn't want to cooperate, she forced herself to stand. She dragged Terry to his living room. A convenient roll of duct tape from the kitchen counter let her bind his hands, legs, and mouth so that when he inevitably came to, he still wouldn't be in any position to do anything. And after second thought, she grabbed a scarf to wrap around his head too, blinding him. The last thing Runia needed was someone seeing her interact with her own dead body.

And speaking of that dead body, it was now time for her to figure out what the hell to do with it. It gave her an incredibly strange sense of depersonalization to roll over the dead body and stare at her own lifeless face. A more philosophical person would probably find either existential dread or a Zen sense of catharsis from it, but Runia was too practical for that. Her first thought was, _That's weird._ Her second thought was, _Huh, I do need a haircut._

What to do about it, though? She could hardly just call the police and tell them that there was a murder—they'd figure something out based on the fact that this body was identical to the one recovered from the museum, and she didn't need them to come sniffing around her apartment building. Would she have to carry the body downstairs and fill her bathtub with acid to dissolve it like she was Walter fucking White?

First things first, she figured it would be best to get her clothing back. (This decision was partially informed by the fact that her bare feet were getting cold, and she had been wearing her warm socks and shoes when she met her untimely end.) Pulling the sweatshirt off of her body felt strange and invasive, but it wasn't like she was going to see anything that she hadn't already seen in the mirror. Just from a different angle, that was all.

That knowledge didn't stop her from pausing slightly as she lifted the top from the corpse. There her breasts were, small as usual but a bit less perky due to the lack of passive muscle tension in her chest. She absentmindedly passed her hand over one of them, and was almost surprised when she didn't feel a matching sensation on her own breast.

...Was the fact that she was getting a bit turned on narcissistic? Probably, given the literal definition of narcissism. But Runia couldn't help it. Her dead body looked really nice, limp and lifeless and eager to be violated. Her hand lingered on the corpse's chest, giving her tit a gentle squeeze before remembering that she actually had a purpose in mind.

Removing her pants was stranger still, since it felt even more like undressing someone for sex. And for some reason, she had to consciously stop herself from sliding a finger across her slit, just wondering what it would feel like. If only there was some cum leaking out of her dead body, too; that would be even more pleasant.

Shaking her head to clear that _very_ strange thought, she finally tugged the shoes, socks, and pants off, leaving her with a pile of clothes and a naked corpse before her. Trying to avert her eyes from it to keep from thinking any other fucked-up lustful thoughts, she noticed a gentle glow coming from the bracelet on her wrist. The cats' collars were shimmering from some strange inner light, pulsing gently, and they seemed brighter the nearer Runia brought her hand to the body.

Experimentally, she reached down and touched the bracelet against the skin of her bare corpse. Immediately, it reacted as if she had touched a strip of paper to a fire; the body began to shrivel and singe, starting at the point of contact and soon spreading out until there was nothing left of her form aside from wisps of white smoke that floated into the air and vanished. Even the blood left on the carpet and the side of the baseball bat had mysteriously disappeared.

Runia sat for a moment with her mouth agape. What other powers did this bracelet have that she didn't know about? She wouldn't look this gift horse in the mouth, though—and now that the evidence of manslaughter had been covered up, she had no reason not to complete that call to 9-1-1.

"Emergency services, what is the location of your emergency?"

"Uh, hi, Oak Street Tower, Apartment #604. Some guy was beating his wife or girlfriend or something."

"Okay, help is on the way. Is anyone injured?" How do 9-1-1 dispatchers always keep an even tone of voice? Runia wondered if she should say that she got killed and resurrected just to get a reaction out of the stoic woman on the other end.

"Yeah. Yeah, the guy hit me in the head, but I'm okay." She walked over to the baseball bat, hesitating a moment before grabbing it in one hand and a kitchen towel from above Terry's sink in the other. The cell phone went to rest in the crook of her neck. "I wrestled the bat back from him, got him back with it, knocked him out cold. You might wanna check him for a concussion or something."

"Okay." Hey, there was a hint of an emotion! Maybe it was just a mild excitement at having an unusual call… Then again, where Runia lived, this probably wasn't terribly unusual. "You said he was fighting with his wife—is she okay?"

"She ran away right after she saw me get hit." She found a bottle of spray cleaner and soaked the towel before rubbing it forcefully along the length of the bat. She had no intention of staying to let the cops interrogate her, and she didn't want them to get her fingerprints off it either. The same went for the door handle and anything else she recalled touching while she was there. "Hey, listen, the guy seemed like he was out of his mind delusional or something. Both him and his girlfriend. They might have been on drugs or something. They kept shouting at things that weren't there."

"Um, okay. Are you there right now? Still at the apartment?"

"Yeah. I don't live here, though. I was coming home from my friend's place. His name is Tim, he lives in unit 713." All bullshit and misdirection. And the bit about them being delusional would hopefully partially cover up for the fact that they'd obviously testify that they saw Runia die.

"Okay, please stay on the line until police arrive if it's safe for you to do so." Runia had no intention of doing that, so she just started gathering up her clothes and slipping the shoes on her feet, already preparing to abscond. "How are you feeling?"

The 9-1-1 operator wouldn't get an answer, unfortunately, because Runia had already snapped the flip-phone shut and popped the battery out from the back of it. The last thing she needed was the police trying to trace her based on it—hell, she'd probably need to get a new phone now, just to be safe.

She peeked back into the hallway. Still deserted as ever. So was the hallway one level downstairs, and she slipped right back into her apartment as if nothing had ever happened. As if she hadn't just gotten killed, returned to life, and went to get revenge.

It took a few minutes of looking around to find a notepad and a pencil from the mess in Runia's desk drawers. When she finally had both, she frantically jotted down some lines:

"Can come back after dying. Limit? (Distance, number of times?) Don't try to test."  
"Always wake up in my bed after coming back. (Consistent?) Keep nothing except the bracelet."  
"Touch body (must be naked?) with bracelet and it disappears."

And finally, the big, burning, thrice-underlined and boldface question that hung over the whole affair:

"BUT WHY?"


	4. Interesting Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runia gets offered a job, and she sets out to do it. That's it; nothing's going to go awry, and nothing strange will happen. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this is where the story really gets into "dead dove, do not eat" territory. it gets a little gross but im trying as best i can to put a spin on it! and if you like that stuff, but you dont like all the plot getting in the way, the juicy necrophilia comes at the very end.
> 
> oh also! apologies if the code lines dont render properly/are too small on your browser. let me know if it gets impossible to read and ill use plaintext instead (or see if ao3 supports some css stuff).

`Hey Rook, it's me. I'm as surprised as you are about all this. I don't know who she was because I sure as hell didn't hire her. You're the only one who should even know about our job.`

Runia's client was predictable if nothing else. He had surely reassessed his OPSEC following her message, wondering where the hole was—because he saw "Rook" as an established professional, he wouldn't suspect her of being the source of any problems whatsoever. "Fake it 'till you make it" is as true in the world of black market theft as it is in any other job.

`2 grand is way too steep. You should be hooking me up with your contact for free since technically you should have gotten the job done before anyone else tried stealing from the museum.`

There was the soft sell. And the haggle:

`The highest I'll pay is 1200 if you can promise me that your broker will give me a good deal and good info.`

Easy as pie. It wasn't her original $58,000 prize, but it wasn't nothing. And thank God, too, because it was already the 7th, three days until her rent deadline. Runia cracked her knuckles to send a reply.

`1200. Deal. Don't worry about the broker. His name is HAL and he's good at what he does. Text file attached with his contact info.`   
`Keep in touch. Rook out.`

After hitting send, she tabbed over to her crypto wallet, hitting the refresh button and tapping her foot on the floor until it lit up with a notification: $1,200 of untraceable currency had just been added. By the time she had loaded it onto her prepaid debit card, the value had fallen by $19.28, but she still couldn't complain. It was still enough money for rent, a bit of cash to stash away in case she lost her wallet again, and a six-pack of cheap beer from the convenience store.

Aidan's apartment was on the first floor next to the elevator, naturally, so that he could watch all comers like an all-seeing god of sleaze. Runia knocked on the door with the hand that wasn't busy carrying her beer.

It took only a moment for Aidan to come to the door, likely because he had nothing better to do in his miserable life. He was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a dress shirt with the top four buttons undone, putting patchy chest hair on full display. And he probably thought he was dripping with sex appeal. "Ah. Hey, Runia. Those for me?" He pointed at the beers with a shit-eating grin.

"Depends," she replied humorlessly, "How many hundreds of dollars from my rent is each beer worth to you?"

"Hm… If you're not gonna enjoy them with me, then nevermind." Yuck. "You're dropping off the rent?"

"Yup. The site says I owe $727.48. Plus $300 from January, that comes out to $1027." She set the six-pack down and pulled a fat stack of cash from a bag slung around her shoulder, counting out hundreds and twenties.

"Don't you mean $1028?" Aidan scratched his chin, counting along with Runia in his head.

"It's 48 cents. You said I could round down so that you didn't have to fuck with change."

"It's $727.48, though," he said. "So the 48 rounds to 50, then you round up 'cause it's half."

"That isn't even remotely how that works."

"Sure, but also, I can evict you whenever I want."

Glaring daggers, Runia picked one extra dollar out from her money bundle and added it to the stack that she handed to Aidan. "I'd sue your balls off if you did."

"Mm-hmm. Thanks, Runia."

She didn't bother replying. She also didn't bother checking to see whether he was watching her walk away towards the elevator, because he assuredly was. Every interaction with Aidan made Runia want to take a shower and run up her water bill even further.

Once she was back in her room with a satisfyingly ice-cold bottle of shitty beer in hand, she glanced at her laptop, idly wondering if she should boot up the other operating system and maybe watch some cat videos or something. But before she could go through with that course of action, she noticed something: an alert badge on the icon for her chat client.

Someone was trying to message her? Or more accurately, trying to message "Rook?" Interesting. She connected to her IRC node and took a look.

`[18:28:48] v7m2aq9a: Hello Rook.`   
`[18:28:55] v7m2aq9a: I wish to make use of your services.`

Strange. Usually if someone was going to contact her, they'd use her mail client, since that was what she gave out to prospective clients she found on dark-web forums. Only a few people she knew and trusted (relatively speaking) knew about her IRC node.

`[18:59:40] Rook: Hey there v7.`   
`[19:00:04] Rook: How'd you get here?`   
`[19:03:01] v7m2aq9a: A mutual friend let me know how to reach you.`   
`[19:03:34] v7m2aq9a: Are you interested in hearing about that job?`

A mutual friend? Sure. That wasn't suspicious at all.

`[19:04:04] Rook: Mutual friend? Okay, cop. Bye.`   
`[19:04:44] v7m2aq9a: Wait.`   
`[19:05:00] v7m2aq9a: 10th and G. There's a house there, address 1304.`   
`[19:06:20] v7m2aq9a: There's a safe in the basement; I want you to steal its contents and bring them to me. The owner is out every weekend between 7:00 PM and 6:00 AM.`

Now that was strange. As far as Runia understood police, they weren't allowed to explicitly solicit crimes—that's why they always had to talk circles around people and get them to say it first. And a simple smash-and-grab, second story man type job? Runia could do that in her sleep, even if it did involve safecracking.

`[19:09:07] Rook: What's the pay?`   
`[19:10:14] v7m2aq9a: $3,000.`   
`[19:10:54] v7m2aq9a: And answers.`

Answers? What? Runia's eyes flicked between her screen, her empty email inbox, and the bracelet on her wrist. Did this v7 person somehow know what was going on?

`[19:11:37] Rook: Who told you how to contact me?`   
`[19:14:44] v7m2aq9a: HAL.`

Runia grinned. If v7 was HAL's contact, then that was probably his way of outlining a price of information on the bracelet: rather than pay up, he was having her do a job for it. Perhaps this was a bit of wistful thinking on Runia's part, but hey, money was still money. And if v7 knew who HAL even was, then they were probably trustworthy enough to pay up.

`[19:15:11] Rook: Alright v7, you got a deal.`   
`[19:15:41] Rook: I'm not taking hot merchandise to where I live so I'll set you up with a dead drop once it's done.`   
`[19:16:24] Rook: If that's a deal breaker, then sorry, we're through. But I'm not stupid so the goods will be safe.`   
`[19:16:58] Rook: May take two weeks without setbacks.`   
`[19:17:30] v7m2aq9a: That's perfectly alright.`

Honestly, after all the strange shit Runia had been through in the past few days, it felt good to be back in the saddle of theft-for-hire. It felt comparatively mundane, even. After giving v7 her typical "Keep in touch. Rook out," catchphrase, she spent the next few hours online, trying to gather as much actionable information as she could about her target at 1304 G Street.

From what she saw on maps and 360-degree photos of the street, it was located in a decently nice neighborhood, unlike the one that Runia lived in. Just about every house had spacious back and side yards, letting the occupants keep a healthy distance from their neighbors. Given that Runia had just been murdered by one of her neighbors a few days ago, she could respect that sentiment.

It was in the vicinity of a university, but not any elementary or high schools. Judging by that fact, plus some listings on a local vacation rental website, led Runia to speculate that this neighborhood was one of mostly childless folks who paid the mortgage by leasing out their spare rooms from time to time. But anything more concrete would need to be gleaned from visiting the place in person.

Over the next few days, Runia decided that she would start a fitness blog. Which meant not starting a literal fitness blog, but instead taking a running pack, athletic wear, and camera with her to the intersection of 10th and G street. That allowed her some some plausible deniability as she walked around, photographing her target and casing the area.

And she was indeed approached by some people from that area who were especially perceptive and sensitive to people who they didn't recognize in the neighborhood. But they loved Runia's lie about the fitness blog, and in fact, they helpfully answered some questions for her about the community! Such as the general age and character of people in the neighborhood (mostly retirees who saved very well and young professionals), how many children there were (very few aside from occasional grandkid), and if crime was a problem (of course it wasn't—but it was about to be).

She staked out the house over the next weekend, too, trying to get a feel for it and who lived in it. The building itself was a fairly standard single-story home, probably one-bedroom, one-point-five bathroom. As far as Runia could tell, there was only one occupant: a man, possibly thirty, with a Middle Eastern skin tone and a face of light stubble. He seemed to have a relatively rigid schedule: he'd leave every morning at around 8:00 AM, and get back at about 6:00 PM, like a normal nine-to-five working man. And v7's suggested intel about the house being unoccupied over the weekend seemed to hold true during Runia's surveillance; perhaps he was some sort of weekend party-goer?

Whatever. Runia was starting to put $30,000 effort into a $3,000 job. There was no indication that this would be much of a challenge at all, and so Runia decided to strike on the next weekend, when she knew that the target would be unoccupied. She even watched the homeowner leave that day, and stayed for a while to make sure he wasn't coming back early.

It was about 1:00 AM when she made her play in earnest. She'd left her wallet, cell phone, and just about every other important thing of hers at home this time, _just in case_. But in that runner's pack of hers was hidden a number of covert entry tools, from lockpicks to a traveler's hook to a neodymium magnet.

Entering was relatively easy. The front door would be locked up tight, and Runia really didn't feel like picking anything, so instead she went to the side yard and inserted a pair of shims into the cheap padlock holding the gate closed. It popped open faster than it would have had she known the combination.

Like most back doors in crime-free neighborhoods, this house's back door was left unlocked, because the owner usually didn't have to deal with people like Runia. Once inside, she waited for a full minute, straining her ears for any sounds that could indicate the presence of an occupant—music, snoring, a keyboard clacking, footsteps, anything. And there was nothing.

Still, it would be nothing short of hubris to walk unperturbed to the basement door. She still crept, and she shut the door behind herself just in case there were prying ears. The basement seemed to house a whole lot of nothing—just a carpeted floor, some shelves stocked with canned goods and overpriced bottled water, cardboard boxes full of junk, and of course, a small black safe set into the concrete wall. That gave Runia a moment's pause, as wall safes were usually the best, or the absolute worst. And…

…it was a digital safe. By the grace of God, it was a digital safe! For digital safes fail to live up to their namesake and make anything, well, safe. A digital safe can have all the sophisticated fingerprint scanning locks and long complex codes it wants, but at the end of the day, when the batteries die or the nation gets hit with an EMP blast, they still need to rely on a good old mechanical lock. And since every other part of the safe is so expensive, why spend even more on having a good lock?

Runia didn't even have to actually _pick_ it, because she still didn't feel like picking any locks. She just inserted a tension wrench and a vaguely key-shaped jiggling tool, and after a moment's effort, the lock clicked obediently, and the safe swung open.

And immediately, a buzzing noise heralded the activation of a small motor. An aerosol hiss accompanied a blinding cloud of white fog, and Runia coughed heavily as the smell of cherries and ethanol filled her lungs. Her mind filled with thoughts, mostly along the lines of _What!?_ and _Fuck!_ But the words "booby-trap" were not among them, even if they should have been.

After only a moment or two of staggering, she slumped to the floor, suddenly unable to keep her eyes open, as a beam of light heralded someone opening the door to the basement.

Her captor didn't have all the time in the world before Runia woke up, but he made good use of it, binding her hands and putting a gag in her mouth. Once she came to, it took her a moment to realize that she was sitting in a chair, still in the basement of the house that she was supposed to rob, restrained and all but helpless. She tried to struggle free and cry out, but it was no use.

"Ah. I'm sorry." A voice, sounding smooth and collected yet somewhat nervous at the same time, came from somewhere behind her. She tried to crane her neck to look, but she couldn't turn far enough. "I really hoped that I would be done with this business before you came to."

Runia tried to ask who he was, what he was doing, why he was doing it… But the words couldn't get out. "I'm sorry," the voice apologized again, "but if you are who I think you are, this is necessary."

Suddenly, a pair of hands came into Runia's vision, each holding the end of a length of rope. They withdrew quickly, pulling the rope tight around her neck, strangling her brain of air and blood, choking the life from her in mere moments.

Runia drifted into consciousness, naked and atop the messy sheets of her bed. It felt like she had just woken up from a fantastic nap—one of those naps that should take 20 minutes, but instead takes an hour and a half, and it completely fucks up the rest of her day but feels incredible in the moment. For once, the apartment's heat was on, and she was nice and toasty-warm despite her nakedness. Still half-asleep and powered by id, she gently stroked a hand down the side of her body until it was between her legs, languidly brushing through the short bush that had grown there over the past several days and stroking her slit.

Had she been doing something? Couldn't have been important. Not more important than massaging her clit right now. God, she was so wet—why doesn't she sleep naked more often? Come to think of it, why had she gone to bed naked now? _Wait a minute, did I just fucking die again?_

The memories finally returned, breaking the haze of Runia's mind and setting her heart racing. She sat up and withdrew her hand, much to the protestation of her needy body. That job was a fucking setup! Whoever hired her had tried to get her killed—hell, they _succeeded_ at getting her killed!

She stood up, almost tipping right over from the hazy

`[01:20:11] v7m2aq9a: Hello Rook. If you are who I think you are, you should be reading this message right now.`   
`[01:24:44] v7m2aq9a: At least, I hope so... I'm sorry for betraying you, and I know you must be confused. But please come back and we can talk through things. I'll give you the answers you seek.`

She checked the computer clock. 3:14 AM. Was v7 her erstwhile murderer? And did he kill her, then immediately send her a message? That would require him to know about the resurrection, wouldn't it? After spending a few minutes with her fingers hovering over the keys, she tentatively sent a reply.

`[03:17:40] Rook: There are probably easier ways to get a point across than killing me.`

Much to her surprise, the reply came almost immediately. And it was a very strange reply indeed.

`[03:18:02] v7m2aq9a: OH THANK GOD!!!! I was really worried for a moment.`   
`[03:18:11] v7m2aq9a: Welcome back Rook!`   
`[03:18:52] Rook: Did you just strangle someone to death based on a hunch that she could come back from the dead or something?`   
`[03:19:30] Rook: Are you a fucking psychopath? That's a serious question.`   
`[03:20:50] v7m2aq9a: No I'm not, and this confirmed it!`   
`[03:21:00] v7m2aq9a: Please, come back to my house as soon as you can. If you get a taxi I'll pay you back. I'll have all your possessions waiting for you.`

Just when Runia thought that things couldn't get any stranger, v7 seemed to practically be jumping up and down behind the screen. It made no goddamn sense. But she was still apprehensive.

`[03:23:42] Rook: How do I know you're not having me walk into another setup?`   
`[03:24:30] v7m2aq9a: What would I do?`   
`[03:25:10] v7m2aq9a: Kill you?`

...That was a far better point than Runia was willing to give v7 credit for. She put on yet another outfit for a meeting with this nutjob, ignoring the ache in the pit of her stomach that screamed out for her to masturbate instead of put on clothes. This time, she also slipped a small pocket knife into her sweater, just in case.

The taxi fare was more than $20, even at this late hour. Runia fully intended for v7 to pay every cent of it, if he was indeed a man of his word. The first thing she noticed upon returning to the house was the presence of that same old car in the driveway, confirming that v7 and the home's sole occupant were indeed the same person. Talk about a setup… She'd have appreciated the clever ploy if it hadn't ended with death.

Runia walked up to the door and hesitated a bit before knocking. The wait that ensued was perhaps the most awkward few seconds of her life. Was she planning on greeting this guy and acting all buddy-buddy with him? Not only did he just murder her, but he also clearly knew more than she did about this resurrection phenomenon. Runia hated when people knew more than her.

Finally, v7 answered the door. From close up, by the light of his porchlight, Runia could make out more of his features: a soft and uncharacteristically warm-looking face, presently wearing an enthusiastic smile, framed by a pair of heavy-framed spectacles. He was dressed very unremarkably, wearing a t-shirt for what was possibly a local rock band and gray slacks. And… he was actually kind of attractive, as much as it pained Runia to admit.

"You're here!" He said, stating the obvious. "Please, come in. Once again, I'm really, really sorry about—"

Runia cut him off by pushing past him. "Yeah, save it. I'm not really happy about being manipulated like that." She wheeled around to face him, seeing with some chagrin that he seemed relatively unfazed.

"I… Yeah, okay, I can understand why you would be. And I understand that it seems pretty extreme." He awkwardly motioned to a small dining table next to his kitchen. "Do you want to sit? I have a lot to say."

Runia followed reluctantly and sat opposite him, arms still folded across her chest. He stayed standing for a moment, grabbing a pair of wine glasses and a bottle of mid-shelf chianti (not that Runia knew the difference between different wines). "My name is Alexander, by the way. Would you like a—"

"No, I'm not eating or drinking anything you offer me. Cut the act," Runia snapped. "The next words out of your mouth better be exactly what you know about this thing and how you know it." She held up her bracelet-clad wrist as she spoke for emphasis.

"…Oooo-kay. No wine." He cleared his throat as he poured a glass for himself, then sat contemplating it for a second before taking a deep breath and finally answering the question. "I believe myself to be a seer for an ancient goddess. And I believe you to be in possession of a sanctified artifact of hers."

There was a long, pregnant pause. Runia was the first to break it, deadpan. "I swear to Christ, if you're trying to be funny—"

"I also didn't believe it at first," Alexander cut her off. "However, I know this, Runia Vogel: not only can you return to life after you die, but you've done it three times now. First at the Earth Heritage Museum, second in your upstairs neighbor's apartment, and finally in my basement. I know all this for the same reason that I knew how to reach you on that chat program of yours, and then say that HAL sent me if you were to ask." He went to take a sip from his wine, and Runia noticed that his hand was trembling slightly. Could it be possible that he was in over his head just as much as she was?

"I… So you can see the future, or something?" She was clearly having some trouble wrapping her head around the development. "Are you, like, psychic? Can you bend spoons?"

"I can, but not with my mind, sadly." Runia exhaled a laugh through her nose at that one. "I can't see anything except what limited information the goddess shows me. Usually through visions in dreams. I know it sounds a bit incredulous, but when I was younger, those visions led to me saving the lives of my sister, my parents, and my friends, all on distinct occasions from dangers that I would have had no earthly way to anticipate."

So-called psychics and wannabe mediums have stories aplenty about how they predicted something that convinced them of a gift, and Runia never believed their bullshit. She still didn't. But something about Alexander's conviction really did convince her. "Who is this goddess, then? Athena? Or… Sobek?" Those were the only goddesses that Runia knew from her passing familiarity with fiction based in ancient myth.

"Well, Sobek is the Egyptian crocodile god, not a goddess." _Shit._ "And I don't truly know anything about her. Not her name, not her spheres of influence, nothing. I get the sense that she is good, despite her morbid association with death, but…"

"But you don't know anything else, and now I'm the strongest link you have with her." Runia finished his sentence before he could ramble to the point.

"Erm, yes. Precisely. And the fact that she clearly wanted us to meet."

"Right. Yeah. Okay…" Runia finally uncrossed her arms and rested her chin on her hand, deep in thought. She had already turned down Alexander's offer for a drink, but she was nonetheless experiencing the desire to upend that bottle of chianti into her mouth. "Did you _have_ to kill me?"

"I… Suppose I didn't strictly have to. But it was, counterintuitively, the fastest way of proving that I truly meant you no harm."

Weird. Weird! This whole fucking night had been weird to the max. Runia groaned as she grabbed the bottle of wine and the extra glass, pouring a double-serving and downing it like a college student who just heard the cops knocking at her door.

"It also… Well, I don't know for sure, but I believe that death somehow cleanses you?" He didn't sound too sure of himself on that one, and Runia cocked an eyebrow while she finished the last of her glass. "Don't ask me, I don't know what it means. The visions I get are seldom specific and oftentimes cryptic."

Did that explain how Runia always woke up unscathed, nude, and horny? That would be a really strange definition of the word "cleanse," but then again, what wasn't strange about her life these days? Although speaking of that, the warmth in her core had returned, and she shifted uncomfortably in the chair as her body begged her for some kind of satisfaction.

"Okay. Well, you know what, it's been a great chat, Alex." Runia stood up, thankful that her lack of a dick meant that she didn't have to hide an erection from him. "I think I'm going to go home, mull that over, and not get any goddamn sleep at all. Sound good?"

"That sounds quite alright." He stood as well, then looked as if he had remembered something. "Oh. I was going to pay you, and return your things to you, too. $3,000 is what I said, and taxi fare couldn't have been more than $12, right?"

"It was $21.70, actually." Alexander gave her an expression of incredulity, and she just shrugged. In truth, she was very happy to be getting paid for blundering into an ambush, even if it set a poor precedent.

"Right. Well, that's all downstairs." He started towards the basement, and Runia hesitated, her instincts smartly telling her to avoid going back to where she'd been killed earlier. But then Alexander's words echoed in her mind: _What's he gonna do, kill me again? Then I'd just get home faster…_

She followed to the now brightly-lit basement. Everything was where it had been, and the wall safe was still open on its hinges, but there were two glaring exceptions. First, laying next to her safe was a neat pile of the clothes and gear that Runia had brought on her first trip to the house; second, her naked corpse had been removed from the chair and was splayed out on the carpeted ground.

Alexander seemed to go out of his way to avoid noticing the body in the room before realizing that Runia had stopped in her tracks. "Oh. Um, sorry, I probably should have moved it or something… Truth be told, I don't know what I'm going to do with it, but—"

"I can get rid of them. My corpses. I just touch 'em with the bracelet after taking everything off them, I think." Runia wasn't sickened or anything; on the contrary, that was the opposite to what she was feeling at the moment. She tore her eyes away and looked at Alexander. "Did you have to undress me?"

"I- I wanted to give you your things back," he stammered defensively. "I really- I didn't take any pleasure in it. Honestly."

"Uh-huh…" She took a few steps towards her corpse. Given her manner of death this time, the body was remarkably intact, bearing only a slight ligature mark and small petechiae on her neck. "You sure about that?"

"I'm- I'm sorry?"

"I asked if you were sure about that." Maybe it was the wine just now going to her head, maybe it was the arousal that she had woken up with, or maybe all this weird shit had finally broken her brain. "I mean, I'm pretty hot. Undressing me would be nice for anyone, and you got to do it without worrying about anyone watching, me included."

"I- I really- I try to keep things professional, since-"

"What, are you saying that nothing crossed your mind?" Runia, by now unfazed by the body on the ground, approached closer and knelt beside it, casting her eyes across her own curves. "It'd be alright if you said yes. In fact, you should tell me if you did."

Alexander shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the dead Runia and the very much alive (and taunting him) Runia. And unlike her, he _did_ have to put in some effort to hide a boner. "I… I might have… _thought_ some things. I didn't do anything, if that's what—"

"What if I gave you permission to _do_ something?" Her tone was uncharacteristically teasing, as if she felt very much at ease. Maybe the inability to die was going to her head?

"Are you—"

"Yeah, come on over. I just want to watch. See what it's like in third person." It would be like watching a sex tape, although far more perverse, since one of the participants would be a corpse. But if anything, that was only making it more appealing for Runia.

Alexander nervously approached, trying to look without staring, which drew a quiet laugh from the living Runia. She sat back, spreading her legs casually, and almost letting out a needy moan as the fabric of her panties rubbed across her.

"Go on. She won't bite." Runia undid the button of her pants and slid them off her legs, leaving them in a pile beside her. She hadn't paid much attention to the underwear she put on to rendezvous with Alexander, so they were a basic pair of bikini-style white polka-dotted ones, and they now bore a large wet mark in the center.

Alexander finally got close enough to kneel down in front of the corpse, straddling it. He tentatively placed his hands on the dead flesh, clumsily as a virgin, trailing his fingers across her chest and pinching her nipples. It didn't take terribly long for him to progress, though, leaning in and pressing his tongue to one of those slightly puffy nipples, tracing circles around it and leaving a slick trail of drool on it.

As Runia watched, she reached a hand up her own shirt, lightly brushing a finger against her own nipple. The sensation made her emit a high-pitched sigh, and Alexander looked up briefly in surprise before returning his attention to the body. She tried to time the motion of her fingers against her tits with the motion of Alexander's tongue, imagining a parity between the sensations.

Eventually, his mouth went lower and lower, until it was between the corpse's legs. Since that Runia was obviously dead, she couldn't spread her legs for Alexander, and he had to do move her limp legs into position himself.

"Hm. Starting off with foreplay. That's nice. That's gentlemanly of you." Runia's hand slipped lower into her panties, bucking her hips slightly against her own touch as her finger brushed against her clit.

Alexander didn't answer, probably because he had already parted the lips of Runia's pussy and begun to lick, saturating the dead slit with a sloppy trail of drool. Runia would have shaved if she had known that someone would be going down on her—or her corpse. Then again, Alexander didn't seem to mind.

After a while of licking and sucking, Alexander picked his head up, panting slightly. Runia could notice the hint of flushed cheeks beneath his dark complexion. He looked up to her, and stammered, "Can I… Is it alright—"

"She's dead, Alex. You can do whatever you want with her." Runia finished that statement with a moan of pleasure as she slid a finger inside herself, curling it to hit her g-spot and sending waves of arousal crashing through her body.

Alexander didn't need telling twice. He leaned back from the corpse and pulled off his pants and boxers, setting them aside before kneeling between the body's knees once again. Runia bit her lip slightly at the reveal, even if it wasn't necessarily intended for her—he was rock-hard, and quite nicely hung; Runia had been with enough people to make that judgement confidently. Feeling overdressed, she herself finally slid her now-soaked panties off, leaving them to hang around one ankle.

Using his own spit and pre-cum as lube, Alexander prodded the head of his cock at the entrance of Runia's corpse. He held her hips with both hands, propping her up to get a proper angle, before sliding in, letting out a shuddery exhale of pleasure at the sensation. It was somehow gratifying to know that, even dead, Runia's pussy had that effect on people. She inserted another finger into herself as Alexander penetrated her corpse, letting out a breathy moan to match his.

"Do you like it?" She asked, her voice sounding a bit more high-pitched and teasing than it usually did, even during sex. Alexander nodded and stammered an answer in the affirmative, but she could see it plain as day on his face. He was enjoying it immensely, and once he found a more comfortable angle with which to hold Runia's limp body, he picked up the pace.

Just as he moved quicker and quicker, Runia increased the pace of her fingers, using her other hand to alternate between pinching and rubbing her nipples and massaging her clit. By this time, between her moans and Alexander's pleasured grunts, there wasn't a quiet moment between them.

Alexander was the one to finish first, which was another point in favor of Runia's body. With a surprise-tinged exclamation of, "G- God, I'm going to cum," he emitted a drawn-out sigh, thrusting his hips and pulling Runia's to bottom out inside of her as he filled her corpse with his seed. The image of him thrusting deep into the body, balls twitching as they deposited their load into her, burned itself into Runia's mind as her fingering reached a crescendo. She felt everything in her body tense, followed by a rush of release and a warm, wet sensation as her hips bucked of their own accord. A loud, relieved moan accompanied her squirting orgasm, and she withdrew her fingers to let it happen, focusing on her clit instead to ride it out. It made a bit of a mess of the carpet in Alexander's basement, but that was the absolute last thing on either of their minds.

It took far longer than usual for Runia's racing pulse to calm down, even after she collapsed against the ground, her body almost as slack as the corpse beside her. Alexander, too, was left panting for quite a long time, making no attempts to say anything. Because, truly, what _could_ one say in a situation like this?

Runia finally slid her panties on, then got to her knees and crawled over to her corpse. In her wave of post-orgasm clarity, she was quite a bit less aroused by it, although still not terribly repulsed. As she got close enough to touch it, her bracelet began to glow once again, and she brought it to the corpse's skin. Just as before, the slight contact started a chain reaction, and the corpse vanished into the finest ash.

Alexander watched the strange event in awe, doubtlessly as surprised (if not moreso) than Runia when she had first done it. "See? Told you," she said simply, before crawling back to grab her pants and don them hastily.

It would be very awkward indeed to stick around, so Runia opted for the path of a very strange walk of shame. She stood up, bracing herself against the basement wall, and walked to the safe. Inside, behind the mechanism that sprayed her with soporific gas earlier, were several stacks of hundred-dollar bills. She counted out 30, then waved them over her shoulder at Alexander. "Three grand. The taxi fare you can make up for some other time."

She had stooped to gather up the rest of her things when Alexander cleared his throat. "You know," he said, seemingly struggling to keep his voice even, "there's a Chinese expression. 'Better to be a dog in times of tranquility than a man in times of chaos.'"

Runia scoffed, looking back over her shoulder with a wry smile. "Not like we have any choice in the matter, do we?" Alexander shook his head. "Yeah… Keep in touch." She turned and ascended the stairs, leaving the strangest night of her life behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little disclaimer, slight spoilers: i really dont anticipate runia and alexander being a couple at the end of this. its not her style! so sorry if you were expecting romance, and hooray if you hate romance and just want characters to interact!


	5. The Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runia learns something new about herself.  
> (This chapter is 100% PWP)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> necro-selfcest, at long last! this is basically chapter 4.5, and the next one will have some more plot. of course, who reads a necrophilia fic for the plot...?

A quiet, wet sound echoed through Runia's otherwise silent and pitch-black apartment. Some of the money that Alexander had given her went to a pair of blackout curtains, which helped keep the sun's heat in and helped give some privacy and peace from the outside world. This was especially nice on days when she wanted to sleep in until 3 PM, or on days like today, when she had the urge to masturbate

It was one of those days when she'd woken up debilitatingly horny. They were quite a frequent occurrence for Runia, as she had trouble meeting and sticking with significant others. Or at least, they were until recently. Now, given her bizarre supernatural predicament, she had other things to focus on, and waking up horny usually meant that she had just died.

That wasn't the case today, though. Her libido was in overdrive of its own accord, and sadly, she was experiencing another problem that used to plague her: the inability to actually cum. She'd tried bringing some of her favorite fantasies to mind, even recalling the memory of Alexander fucking her corpse to see if the taboo novelty would get her off, but to no avail. She tried putting some porn on her laptop, but the video just kept buffering on an awkward frame of an actress waiting to get facefucked with feigned excitement.

"Fucking… Come on…" She panted, lifting her hips and trying to stimulate her clit with her fingertips. She stayed on the edge of orgasm, only succeeding in making herself too sensitive. "Ugh…" Her groan of frustration was muffled by her pillow. This was the worst—she couldn't even give up, partially due to the sunk costs fallacy, partially because she knew that trying to put clothes on would just be unsatisfying and overstimulating to the point of pain.

Runia sourly took her fingers out of herself and gave her body a momentary rest. _I need a toy that does this for me. God…_ Kayla, whose advice she trusted wholly as a friend, gave a glowing recommendation to a wand vibrator that cost $170. Runia ridiculed her for spending that much on a vibrator, but at the moment, she'd pay that price in a heartbeat for just one orgasm.

She sighed, letting her ragged breathing calm down a bit before trying again. Her body was slick with sweat, even in the cool air of her bedroom, and it would have assuredly been nice if she was trying to produce some artistic nude photos rather than trying to get off. She allowed her hand to wander up to her chest and come to rest at her throat.

"Mmm… Fuck me…" She moaned to no one in particular, lifting her hips again and slipping a pair of fingers inside immediately. Her grip tightened slightly around her throat; even though she was unsure of how to properly do it, she succeeded in depriving herself of air for a brief moment. And as she did, she felt herself inch closer to orgasm, and her heart swelled. "Oh, yes, choke me…"

She imagined getting roughly fucked, grabbed by someone nice and strong and pressed into her bed and choked all the while. Her moans were strangled by the tightening of her hand around her neck, and the fingers in her pussy increased in speed as she felt herself getting closer and closer…

And then she reflexively let go, gulping a breath of air and immediately losing the moment. Try as she might to keep her fingers moving in exactly the same way, her body wasn't responding. "Fuck! Goddamn it!" She was so close!

With a frustrated sigh, she stood up, wobbling slightly on her legs. The ample natural lubrication that had been serving her so well over the past few hours practically dripped down her thighs as she walked over to her dresser. _This is stupid… But I literally have nothing to lose_ , she thought, withdrawing an old scarf from the top drawer. It would do.

She walked into her bathroom and flicked the light on. She knotted one end of the scarf around the sturdy rod holding the shower curtain up, and after giving it a tug to make sure it would hold, wrapped the other end around her neck. _What the hell am I doing? _Still, the idea that she would do this in the first place was turning her on already. So what if she hadn't done it before and didn't know how to actually do it?__

__Experimentally, Runia leaned forward, letting the scarf go taut and pull against her throat. It immediately felt amazing—far nicer than her hand alone. And she didn't need to worry about reflexively letting go! She put her fingers back to her slit, hopefully for one last time, and slowly put more and more weight against the makeshift noose tied around her neck._ _

__It was incredible. The less air she had, the more sensation she felt. There was a wonderful buzzing in her ears, and waves of sensation washed over her body, stronger than she had felt all day. She wanted more, and more, and more, and she finally took as much weight as she could off of her feet, and she was about to cum—_ _

__And, with a start, Runia awoke on her bed. What just happened? Did she just climax? It didn't feel like she had. It only took her a moment to figure things out. "Oh, my fucking God… Did I just die?" She asked to no one in particular. The darkened room didn't give a reply._ _

__But it didn't need to. A quick trip to the bathroom proved her hypothesis correct: Runia's empty corpse was hanging from a shoddily-constructed noose on the shower, asphyxiated to death. Her fingers were still stuffed greedily into her pussy._ _

__One might expect a strong reaction to seeing one's one corpse, but Runia was used to it by now. She walked over with a resigned sigh, untying the corpse from the curtain rod and letting it slump to the ground. For some reason, she took care to keep from letting her bracelet touch it, even though it wasn't like she had any use for it._ _

__"You dumb bitch…" Runia said to her own corpse. "You can't cum even if it kills you…" She let out a slight snicker at the irony there, but then her face turned to a contemplative expression as she looked at her corpse. Maybe she didn't need a sex toy—or even the autoerotic asphyxiation—if she had a suitable enough toy right there? Sure, the idea was pretty abhorrent… But then again, this was Runia's own body. It's not like she would have any problems with it._ _

__"God, what am I doing?" Even as she asked that, Runia carried the corpse out into her bedroom, setting it on the bed and climbing on top. Straddling her own corpse; add that to the list of unique experiences she's had recently._ _

__She stuck two fingers into her mouth and got them nice and coated with saliva before spreading the corpse's legs and inserting them into its pussy. It was strange, but Runia could swear that the corpse was wetter than she remembered herself being. Had dying suddenly turned her on in her last moments?_ _

__Her very much alive slit was growing wetter by the moment too, bolstered by that weird effect that turned her on after she was resurrected. She found herself grinding it unconsciously against her corpse's unresponsive hips, but there was a better target staring her right in the face._ _

__Runia took her fingers out and licked them clean. The taste wasn't anything she hadn't had before—it was, after all, the most familiar it could possibly be—but her heart still fluttered from the obscenity of the act. She then turned her focus to her body's mouth. "C'mon, slut, open up."_ _

__It took more effort than she had expected to get her mouth to open. And a _lot_ more effort than she had expected to get her tongue out. It didn't take much effort to physically move it, but it took a little while of finagling to get it to stay. All the while, her hands became coated with the cold, residual saliva left in her mouth after she'd perished._ _

__Finally, she was satisfied, and she lifted herself up off her body's hips and repositioned her pussy over the corpse's mouth. She hesitated before sinking down, but only for a moment. And the moment her slit made contact with the body's tongue, all of her doubts melted away, replaced by lust._ _

__"Oh. Fuck…" She shuddered, nearly pulling away as the sensation overwhelmed her. She'd sat on people's faces before—that was, in fact, one of her favorite things to do and possibly the sorest thing she missed about dating—but this was somehow next-level. There was no worry about suffocating herself or being too rough. There was just a limp, lifeless tongue jutting out of a dead mouth, eagerly waiting to be used as a tool for pleasure._ _

__Runia wasted no time before starting to grind her hips roughly against the face beneath her. The force caused the tongue to partially penetrate her, while the motion meant that the lips came along too, providing her with beautifully gentle stimulation._ _

__"O- Oh, yeah… You like it when I ride your face?" The corpse, of course, didn't respond. But the living Runia's body did, and her muscles tightened as little rivulets of slickness rolled down the corpse's face. "You're such a fucking whore. You love being used like this, don't you?"_ _

__Runia didn't entirely internalize the fact that all this dirty talk was reflecting back on her more than anything, but that was the last thing on her mind. She sped up, grabbing her corpse's hair and pushing its head further into her pussy as she ground against it. "Fuck. Please, please, yes…!"_ _

__All at once, a wave of relief crashed over Runia as her body finally relented, pushing her over the brink of a blinding orgasm. Once her muscles finished clenching and twitching, she looked down at the lifeless reflection beneath her to see her face covered in a mixture of slick girlcum and drool._ _

__"…God. Fuck… Holy shit." Runia was never one for poetry. She hoisted herself off of the corpse and tapped it with her bracelet, averting her eyes from it as it faded into dust. "I'm kind of fucked up… Oh, well."_ _

__Just like everything else, she'd have to take that newfound fetish in stride. At least she knew that she could do it anytime she wanted and without anyone having to know. Maybe she could save $170 on a vibrator?_ _

__She used the wall to support herself as she walked to the shower. A long, hot shower was in order, even if it was afternoon (thanks to the blackout curtains, it looked like it could be the middle of the night). And after she got out, she might even to throw on clothes and do some serious work, because she remembered seeing a message in her mail inbox while fussing with her laptop._ _

__At least she could do that without being horny and overstimulated all day…_ _


End file.
